


Quit Hounding Me

by CallistoNicol



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, he could use some collar i.d., he's not fat just a little husky, it's been a ruff few weeks, okay i'm done now, sif likes big mutts and she cannot lie, the loki-as-a-dog au nobody asked for, will make you bark with laughter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-05 07:17:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16806010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallistoNicol/pseuds/CallistoNicol
Summary: It’s not wise to insult a group of sorceresses-in-training. They tend to exact revenge.At least he got adopted by Sif?





	Quit Hounding Me

**Author's Note:**

> Do yourself a favor and google angry huskies.

It had been a long week with no sleep and little food, but Loki finally mastered the next step in illusion magic. He was drained, and could do little more than think about magic, but it was worth it. It would not take much more practice and he would be equal with his mother, the greatest sorceress in all of Asgard. He marched out of the woods self-satisfied, even though no one else in the whole Realm would care.

At the tree line, Loki ran into a class of young females practicing transfiguring magic. If memory served correctly, Loki had insulted them just last week, referring to their work as “the picture of mediocrity produced by the weakest wills Asgard has to offer.” Eight sets of eyes focused in on him, unholy gleams in all of them, as they raised their hands towards him.

“Ah, sh--”

*

It was while on a walk about the forest that Sif saw the stray husky. The dog looked so angry and glared so magnificently, Sif fell in love with him at first sight. “Aren’t you a beautiful creature,” she said, approaching him. She reached out her hand to pet him, but he snapped at her, leaping back and lowering into a growling crouch. Sif, not to be outdone, growled more fiercely, announcing to the dog that she was alpha here and he would submit. Their contest of wills, though fierce, did not last long, and soon the dog was rolling onto his back, belly exposed. Kneeling down, Sif rubbed his belly. “You know who’s in charge,” she murmured.

It was fortuitous timing. Her last two hounds had perished in her latest hunt, and Sif was feeling bereft of canine companionship. Plus Loki, who was afraid of nothing, showed signs of hesitation around dogs. Their latest silent argument was over the rude and coarse language he constantly directed towards her due to his imagined romance between her and Thor, and she was looking for anything to discourage his presence.

“You’ll help me keep the Trickster at bay, won’t you?” she cooed at the dog, her fingers buried deep in his fur. “Loki knows better than to cross a ferocious beast.” At the mention of Loki’s name, the dog growled, his angry eye markings making the sound more savage. Sif smiled in approval. “Good boy,” she said, and led him back to her rooms.

At dinner that night, Thor sat down heavily beside Sif. “Where’s Loki?” he asked. “I know you two are fighting, but he always seems to be hanging around you. If anything, the angrier you are at each other, the more likely he is to be found nearby.”

Sif shrugged. “I know not, for I have not seen him all day. I have a new canine companion, so perhaps he is exerting wisdom for once and remaining scarce.”

“Loki is too clever by half, but wise he is not,” Thor said. “I’ll bet the dog does little to deter him. May I meet the dog?”

Licking her fingers, Sif pushed back from the table. “Follow me,” she said, leading Thor back to her rooms, where the dog was sitting alert and still. When she and Thor entered, she swore he sniffed disdainfully.

“Look at that face!” Thor cried, walking forward to meet the dog. “What a spectacular scowl. It makes him look oddly like Loki, does it not?”

“I suppose it does,” Sif said with a frown. The angry look had been what first attracted her to the dog; with that being what reminded Thor of Loki, she found she did not like the implications.

Thor reached forth a hand to pet the dog, but it snapped at him, nearly catching Thor’s hand. He yanked it back hastily. “Assertive little bugger,” Thor said. “He’s a good match for you.” The dog leapt again for Thor’s hand, this time landing his target. With a grunt of pain, Thor tried flinging the pup free, but the dog held on, blood flying everywhere.

The dog hadn’t yet been trained in commands, so rather than wasting time barking orders, Sif grabbed the dog by the haunches and yanked. There was some yelling and a lot more blood, but they managed to get the dog dislodged from Thor, who cradled his hand. “Naughty dog,” Sif said sternly, though secretly she was proud of the dog’s tenacity and fighting prowess.

“What a beast,” Thor said as his blood dripped to the floor. “Imagine if I had tried to harm you or romance you--I’m not sure I would survive the encounter.”

Pretty words, for they both knew Thor could defeat any foe, but Sif accepted the compliment anyway.

“Have you a name for him yet?” Thor asked

“No. Suggestions?”

“You’re not going to like this, but hear me out. Have you considered Loki?” Sif made to hit him, but Thor held up his hands. It was the blood smears, more than anything, that stayed her hand. “Consider it, Sif. He wears Loki’s scowl, he’s fearsome like Loki, and his primary purpose is to keep Loki at bay. Consider how insulted my brother will feel! You can dote on the dog, which will annoy my brother, and any time you pay Loki a compliment, you can follow it up with a reminder that you’re speaking of the dog. Loki will hate it.” The dog growled, making Thor laugh. “See? Even the dog agrees.”

“But might your brother feel complimented? I’d hate to please him.”

“And should he feel happy, Loki would hide it in so many thinly veiled insults you’d never be able to tell. Think on it.”

Thor had a point, and Sif was enticed by the idea of Loki’s disgruntlement at sharing his name with a canine. “I shall consider it,” she promised.

“That’s all a man can ask for,” Thor said, clapping her on the back and taking his leave.

“As for you,” Sif said, looking at her new husky, “command training begins now. Let’s start with sit, shall we?”

*

Loki was extremely disoriented when he came to and his head was ringing. He knew Sif was nearby for he could hear her voice, but he was having trouble concentrating. He could smell her extremely well, however. He thought he heard his name, but had trouble confirming that’s who he was.

He walked somewhere, recognizing when the grass and dirt gave way to paved walkways and when that turned into the carved stone of Aesir habitation. When he stopped, he sat on something soft. Sif’s voice said something else, but the ringing made it difficult to hear. Closing his eyes, Loki worked at dismantling the fierce headache he was suffering from. It took some time as he had to pick apart layer upon layer of magic, but when he was finished the pain was gone and the ringing had vanished.

Opening his eyes, Loki did not recognize his surroundings. Everything was in shades of grey, a thoroughly depressing scene to wake to. There were several pungent smells, too. In the corner, he could see discarded training tunics and leggings. Whatever man-creature wore those reeked. From behind him he could smell the washroom; several distinct odors permeated the air, and the more he sniffed at them, the more pleasing they became. That was disturbing on several levels.

Something else produced a faint floral fragrance, a most pleasing scent. Turning his head, Loki concentrated a moment, tracing the scent to a bottle on the decidedly feminine vanity. Curious. From the sweat smell he assumed this was a man’s quarters, but no woman he knew would live in shades of grey or allow stinking piles of clothing to marinate in the corner. Where was he?

The overwhelming smells were starting to bother his nose, so Loki reached up to pinch it closed. That was when he discovered he had paws and his nose was attached to a snout.

“What the hell?” he tried to shout, but it came out in a loud bark.

Those dastardly magicking minxes. This was their fault.

Being a dog suddenly explained all the grey and the overwhelming smells. Worse, it explained his joy in the odors coming from the washroom.

The door opened, bringing Loki to attention. It was Sif and Thor. Of course. _Of course_. As if knowing of their romance wasn’t bad enough, now he was going to get a front-row seat to grabby hands and sweat-slicked bodies. And like that, it clicked in his head that he recognized where he was, for he’d been here before. He was in Sif’s rooms.

Thor reached out to pet him, but Loki had more dignity than that and bit his brother. He was surprised by how much he enjoyed the metallic taste of blood, but wasn’t sure if it was the blood he enjoyed, or hurting Thor. Sif pulled him off, but Thor clutched his wounded hand close. It would heal soon, but Loki liked knowing he’d caused damage, however fleeting.

Perhaps Mother was right, and his rivalry with Thor was getting out of hand.

Hah. Hand.

Someone said Loki’s name, so he growled, hoping one of these two idiots would figure out who he was. They didn’t, of course, because who looked at a stray dog and assumed it was a person? Which reminded Loki, how did he end up in Sif’s rooms? Last he recalled, he was being attacked on the edge of a forest. Had she found him and decided to domesticate him? Loki’s amusement grew; he could learn a great deal about Asgard’s favorite shieldmaiden this way.

To his surprise, instead of jumping into bed together, Thor clapped Sif on the shoulder and left. Had the dog’s presence deterred his brother? There wasn’t any other reason for him not to take Sif.

Turning to the woman in question, Loki found her sternly lecturing him. He had to strain to hear. Odd; weren’t dogs supposed to have superior hearing? Perhaps it was a side effect of him being Aesir, or a poorly cast spell from the mediocre witches (he was living proof they weren’t proficient at their craft, a fact he intended to inform them of as soon as he returned to his former glorious self).

Concentrating, Loki tried hard to hear what Sif was saying. Watching her lips move, he could just make out individual words. Him…? Train? Sit.

Oh hell, she was going to train him to be a good boy.

A tiny pop suddenly cleared Loki’s ears, and he could hear everything Sif said with great clarity. “...will procure treats and we shall begin your education. No canine of mine will suffer from poor discipline.” Dropping down, Loki hid his muzzle beneath his paws. Perhaps if she couldn’t see him, she couldn’t train him? Ineffective; Sif bent down beside him, rubbing behind his ears. Loki was determined to hate the action, but the moment she started her ministrations, he became putty in her hands. She wanted him to learn to sit? Happily, so long as she continued scratching.

That morning he’d been a powerful magician with the world in the palm of his hand, and now he was drooling because of head rubs. Circumstances truly could change in the blink of an eye.

When Sif tired of rubbing behind his ears, she moved to her desk. Loki couldn’t help the whimper that escaped from his throat; she turned back to him and laughed. “You are an affectionate little thing, aren’t you?” she cooed. His tail wagged. He hated everything about this. “Perhaps I ought to listen to Thor. You look cranky, but touch the right spots and you melt like butter.” Loki didn’t understand the context; some previous conversation he hadn’t been privy to, surely, but he disliked that she was listening to Thor. She had every right to, but he still didn’t like it. “Come,” Sif said, patting her leg, and like a well-trained mongrel, Loki slunk to her side. She patted his head briefly--too briefly; was every touch so heavenly for a dog, or was Sif just gifted?--and returned to her work.

Within moments Loki collapsed to the floor, his eyes heavy, and he was asleep in seconds. It was not a deep sleep; every time Sif shifted he awoke, constantly aware of her presence, desperate to be there for her, to move when she moved. No wonder dogs were so loyal; it was all he could do not to try and merge their skin so they could be one.

At last Sif stood and stretched. Loki, awoken by her movements, followed her with his eyes as she made for her closet. When she started removing her clothes, his whole being quivered and he quickly buried his head beneath his paws. To look without permission...tempting, tantalizing, but he would not dishonor her so. Eventually he had to return to his Aesir form, and he still needed to look her in the eye upon occasion. Not that she would ever look at him twice, given she already had Thor, but in case the universe was ever kind to him and granted him Sif’s affection, he was not going to sabotage it by peeping.

A snicker attracted his attention, and he peeked between his paws to see Sif laughing at him. Try and do a lady a favor, and this was the response he got? Next time he would just unabashedly stare. “A modest pup,” she said. “Precious.” Sitting next to him, she gave him a vigorous patting. Whatever pleasure hormones dogs had shot straight to Loki’s brain, his tongue lolling out. Nevermind. He would honor her modesty forever.

“I don’t sleep with my dogs,” Sif said, “and I don’t have a kennel for you yet, but there is a blanket on the floor.” Leading him to it, Loki collapsed. The blanket smelled like her, overwhelmingly so. He shifted so his nose was on the stone floor, but that put him too close to her pile of sweaty, dirty clothes, which he had a sudden overwhelming urge to eat. Reminding himself he wasn’t actually a dog, Loki stood up and turned around so his nose was under the bed. Mothballs. Lovely.

His mind drifted off as Sif doused the lights and climbed into bed. On the cusp of sleep, he heard her whisper, “Goodnight, Loki.” That sounded important, but he was out before he could process her words.

*

Loki woke with the sun, desperately needing to void himself. A quick look showed him Sif was still slumbering, so he trotted himself to the bath. It took some maneuvering as dog anatomy was not meant for the Asgardian sewer system, but he managed to void his bladder into the toilet.

He did not relish the thought of emptying his bowels later. He hoped Sif would leave him alone most of the day so he could do his business like a civilized individual, and not be forced to use a tree. Better yet, if he could convince her of his true identity, perhaps she would march him to his own rooms and leave him be to sort out this unfortunate incident.

Back in her room, Loki looked about for something he could use to try and communicate who he was. The ink and pen at her desk were an obvious first choice, though the mechanics of trying to make it work interfered with the simplicity of the idea. He successfully managed to unstopper the ink and pick up the pen with his jaw, but dipping it in the ink was near impossible, and it wasn’t ten seconds before Loki knocked over the inkwell, splashing ink all over the desk and floor.

Undeterred, Loki dropped the pen and dipped his paw in the ink, smearing his name across the floor. At least, that had been the plan, but he found his fine motor skills were nothing to brag about, and his beautiful penmanship was reduced to large streaks in vaguely letter-like shapes.

If he couldn’t write out his name, perhaps he could spell it out with random objects. Sif had a pile of dirty clothes in the corner (so uncivilized), an excellent medium for forming letters when gross motor skills were suspect and fine motor skills were nonexistent. Fetching a soiled tunic, Loki dragged it across the floor, stopping a scant few feet from where he began. What was that delightful smell? Inhaling deeply, Loki realized it came from the garment he bore. Exquisite! And there were more garments bearing the same smell! Excitedly, he dropped the tuinc and dashed back for leggings, underthings, and night clothes. So many exciting smells! Which one to sniff first? Could he eat it? Could he eat all of them? Only one way to find out.

Halfway through a pair of leggings, Sif descended upon Loki, swatting his snout. “Bad boy!” she said, gathering up the various clothes he’d slung about. “Very bad boy!” Shame shot straight to Loki’s core. Tucking his tail between his legs, he hunched over and tried to make himself as small as possible. He didn’t understand why she was so upset. He was just enjoying the delights of her dirty clothes and appreciating all her hard work at creating the smells. That wasn’t a crime under Asgardian law.

“Oh, hells, the ink? Loki, you wretched creature!”

Loki. Yes, that was his name. With a jolt of remembrance, Loki felt a new shame. He was a person, not a dog. This was horrifying. He’d been reduced to the base instincts of an animal. This was a new low in his life.

But wait--she’d called him Loki. Did she know who he was? Had he been successful in delivering his message, despite the unfortunate interruption?

“I forgot how frustrating untrained canines are,” Sif said. “We must remedy that immediately, my mischievous pup. Thor was right; Loki is a fitting name for you.” Realization struck, and Loki growled, deeply insulted that his brother named him after himself. And Sif was still unaware of who he was; he needed another scheme to try and get her attention.

She moved all of her soiled clothes into her closet, shutting the door so Loki could no longer see the source of those delightful smells. She made quick work of his ink fiasco, including washing him off. Cold and shivering, he exacted revenge by shaking his coat dry onto Sif. Rather than get upset, she laughed at him. “You have too much energy,” she said. “Let’s go work some of it off, shall we? Then we may have breakfast.”

“Work it off” turned out to mean running around the whole of the palace ten times. By the time Sif slowed to a cool down walk, Loki thought he was going to die. His limbs quivered with exhaustion, his lungs burned with each breath, and his tongue was not doing a good enough job of cooling him down. And people did this for fun? What was wrong with them?

Sif led him to a water trough where he threw dignity to the wind and jumped in, gulping water as fast as he could with no mind to the fact that it was tainted by his canine body. He didn’t even want to think about how much dog hair he was ingesting.

After, Sif locked him in her rooms with the promise of breakfast when she returned. Before she left, she removed anything that might be tempting to a dog, leaving Loki with nothing to do. Lying down, he stared dolefully at the door. She had to return eventually, right? She wasn’t going to abandon him here, running off on some mission and forgetting about him?

Shaking his head, Loki sternly reminded himself he was a man, not a dog. Of course Sif was going to return; she didn’t trust him enough to leave him unwatched in her rooms for long.

She returned carrying two large steaks. Drool Loki didn’t know he had pooled in his mouth as his tail thumped the ground. Part of him was disgusted at his reaction, while the other part stared hungrily at the meat.

Sif tossed one of the steaks his way, which he devoured in minutes. Meat had never tasted so good. Whatever Cook did to this must be replicated regularly. Loki would see his (or her; he really didn’t know the kitchen staff, nor did he care to) salary increased accordingly.

With breakfast consumed and the floor licked clean, Loki turned his doggy grin on Sif. She was holding more steak, and he could smell it. Sitting on his haunches, he could see Sif had cut the steak into bite sized pieces. Was she planning a game? He loved games!

_Stop it_ , he harshly told himself, putting an end to the frenzied thumping of his tail. He would not give in to this creature’s base instincts. He would not!

“It’s time to begin your training,” Sif said, holding up a chunk of steak. “We shall start with sit.”

Oh.

Oh no.

*

For three days, Sif focused on training her new canine. He was the oddest animal she’d ever worked with; sometimes he thumped his tail excitedly and followed her every command to get his bite-sized hunk of meat, and sometimes he refused to listen, glaring at her so ferociously she almost wondered if he was sentient.

More and more she was convinced the name Loki matched his temperament. Whether or not Loki was insulted, she couldn’t change it now, for it fit so well.

On the third day, Sif took Canine Loki to an animal healer. He needed to be neutered, but she did not know how old he was. He often displayed the energy of a young pup, but when he was in one of his sulks, he seemed much older. Knowing it could be dangerous to neuter too young, Sif sought out professional help.

After an exam that left Canine Loki looking at her with utter betrayal, the healer informed her, “He is the strangest dog, my lady, for I cannot pinpoint an age. Every factor points to a different stage of life. He could be a newborn pup or an adult in the prime of his life. Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Do you think it’s safe to neuter him?” she asked, and the healer shrugged.

“Your guess is as good as mine, my lady,” he repeated.

With so many factors indicating Canine Loki could be at an appropriate age, Sif decided it was worth the risk. Informing the healer of this, Canine Loki let out the longest, saddest whine she’d ever heard. Rubbing behind his ears, Sif made soothing noises. “It’s a necessary procedure,” she assured her dog. “You won’t even notice what you’re missing.” Canine Loki whined again, which might have had a greater effect on her if his angry eye markings didn’t negate the tragedy of his whine. “Oh, you’re a good boy,” she said in baby talk, bringing up her other hand to rub both sides of his face simultaneously. “Oh yes you are.”

“I’m ready, Lady Sif,” the healer said, holding up a needle filled with anesthesia. Sif stepped aside, and Canine Loki went absolutely wild. He lashed out at anything that moved, barking and growling while wreaking havoc in the healer’s office. Sif and the healer combined could not get him under control, doing little more than contributing to the mess.

Throwing his weight repeatedly at the door, Canine Loki broke the door down and made a dash for freedom. Sif, sitting on the floor where Canine Loki had shoved her, stared at the vacancy her dog had left, shocked.

“Are you sure that dog isn’t a god in mortal form?” the healer asked shakily.

“I have thought he’s too sentient for his own good,” she replied, voice equally unsteady. “You don’t suppose he was aware of what we were trying to do?”

“My lady, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Sif spent an hour searching for Canine Loki with no luck. Returning to the palace, she intended to search out Loki for assistance with a tracking spell, but ended up not needing him as she found her dog quivering in the bushes near the warrior’s entrance. “Hey, boy,” she said soothingly, but the dog retreated farther into the bushes. “It’s okay,” she said, holding out her hand, palm up. “You’re not getting a medical procedure today, I promise.” He didn’t appear to trust her, so she sat on the ground, adopting a relaxed stance, and started telling the tale of how she met Thor and Loki.

Canine Loki didn’t emerge from the bush, but he did cease quivering and laid his head on his paws, so Sif shared the story of Loki cutting off all her hair, then the tale of her first successful hunt, then her first fight with Loki. That led to a slew of fights she and the younger prince had had, all amusing in retelling, though at each incident she’d been furious with him. At some point during her two-hour story telling, Canine Loki inched forward until his head was flush with her thigh. Shifting so she could scratch his head, she didn’t pause in her speaking lest the dog get spooked again and retreat back under the bush.

At last her voice was hoarse and Canine Loki appeared to be half asleep, so Sif made to stand up. In a flash Canine Loki was alert, glaring fiercely. Sif held up her hands in a conciliatory gesture.

“I’m not doing anything untoward,” she said softly. “I just wish to acquire some water to soothe my parched throat.” He side-eyed her, and Sif hurried to assure him.

“Now this is a sight I’d never thought to see: Sif, being chastised by her hound.”

It was Thor, striding down the path from the palace. Sif smiled, and Canine Loki growled. “Oh, hush,” she said. “He’s not going to snip your nether regions.” The growl abruptly halted and Canine Loki dropped his head. If she didn’t know better, Sif could almost assume he was embarrassed. She shook her head; dogs didn’t get embarrassed. Then again, they also didn’t destroy healer’s offices over procedures they should know nothing of.

Turning to Thor, Sif said, “Technically he’s not a hound. But I did name him Loki. Your suggestion had merit, and he’s displayed several mannerisms that remind me of your brother.”

The embarrassment was gone as Canine Loki started yipping, turning around in circles. “That doesn’t remind me of Loki,” Thor said. “Too excited by far.” Loki halted, growling at Thor, who laughed. “I apologize, fair beast; you remind me exactly of my brother.” Canine Loki sat down and started thumping his tail, so Sif patted him on his head. “Speaking of my brother, I still cannot find him. Have you seen him, Sif?”

“We are in a fight,” she said, “so no. And if I did see him, I’d render him incapacitated before returning him to you.”

“What are you two fighting about now?” Thor asked, voice heavy with amusement.

Sif shook her head. “I honestly cannot remember, but I am sure it was mostly his fault and he should pay for it.”

“Entirely too likely,” Thor said. “Still, if you do find him, please send him my way once you are finished with him.” Sif saluted as he walked off. Canine Loki barked at his retreat, so Sif lightly bopped him on the nose.

“I don’t think so,” she told her dog. “You belong with me, not him.” The barking halted, and Sif could swear Loki looked delighted at her words. What an odd dog, indeed. “Come, let’s get you some meat. You’ve had a trying day.”

*

Two weeks into life as a dog, Loki had been sufficiently trained to follow Sif’s commands (it got easier once he gave in and pretended to obey her rather than fight her every command). He had made zero progress on convincing anyone he was himself. Sif, mostly likely to discover it, had foolishly named him Loki, so any attempt to get her to recognize his name resulted in her quiet delight that he was recognizing his name. It was a convoluted circle, and made Loki grumpy.

Wisely, Sif hadn’t tried taking him back to the manhood-removing healer. He didn’t know if losing his privates as a dog would transfer to his regular body, and he had no interest in finding out.

Thor made contact daily to see if Sif had seen Loki yet (she had, as he was currently sleeping in her rooms, but she was too dense to realize it), and as the days progressed, Thor was becoming more and more agitated. Yesterday he’d been on the verge of tears, which Loki should have been happy with, but mostly he was finding Thor to be an embarrassment to the family name. That much open affection couldn’t be good for anyone.

Unfortunately for Loki, he was increasingly getting lost in the dog instincts. Two days past, he and Sif had been walking the grounds when someone threw a ball past his head. It was unclear just how long Loki played fetch, but by the time he came to enough to cease the game, the damage was done. Everyone assumed he was just a dog, and he now kept one eye open at all times for rounded objects he could chase after.

Worse, Loki was realizing he loved everything. Body odors? Check. Urine and feces? Double check. Sif opening doors, taking him on walks, scratching his head and rubbing his belly, feeding him raw meat, and cuddling up with him in the evenings? Check, check, check, check, check, _check_. Butterflies? Best thing ever. Jingling bells? Magical. Peeing on _every damn stick_ they passed? Bloody perfect.

The absolute worst bit? He felt the need to hump absolutely everything. So far he’d managed to restrain himself when Sif was around, but the second she left him alone the dog instincts took over and he had a go at everything.

That was never, ever to be said aloud.

He needed to be turned back immediately.

As he was finishing up his breakfast, Sif exited her bedchamber in the midst of pulling on her tunic. Ah, yes, Loki thought as he turned away from her. The personal things he was witness to that Sif was going to attempt to murder him for. Those were high on the list of reasons why he needed to be returned to himself immediately. As much as he enjoyed relaxed Sif and did not mind seeing things she’d rather keep private, he did not want to see them without permission. He might be the basest sort of creature, but he still had standards.

As Sif pulled on her boots (and Loki pretended he wasn’t deeply interested in chewing them), Thor’s powerful knock echoed throughout the room. With one boot on, Sif barely cracked the door before Thor barged in, worry creasing every line on his face.

“We can’t find Loki,” he said, panic increasing the speed of his words.

“So you’ve told me every day for two weeks now,” Sif said, the tiniest of frowns on her face. Was she concerned for him? Loki’s tail started wagging, he noted in irritation.

“No, he’s really missing,” Thor said. “Heimdall hasn’t seen him and doesn’t know where he is, tracking spells aren’t locking onto anything, and no one has seen him in nearly three weeks.”

Tracking spells couldn’t locate him? Interesting. As he was still himself, Loki assumed tracking spells would point straight to him, but it appeared this canine body interfered in some way. He itched to be back in his own body and run a few experiments. If transfiguration could hide him from magic users and Heimdall alike, imagine the possibilities…

“--worried but Father assumes it’s more of Loki’s mischief,” Thor was saying. Loki huffed. Naturally Father wouldn’t care. Perhaps Loki ought to disappear Thor and see whether or not Odin reacted.

The smell of cheese hit Loki’s nose and he perked up. Someone three hallways over was eating it; he was positive he could run fast enough to arrive before all the cheese was gone. A quick glance at Sif and Thor showed them deep in conversation, so Loki bolted for the partially open door.

“Halt!” Sif barked, and Loki came to a screeching halt. “Sit,” she said, and his butt hit the stone floor. Looking at Sif sadly, Loki let out a high pitched whine. “That would be more effective if you didn’t always look so angry,” she told him. “Now stay.”

Why couldn’t he have transformed into a fluffy pomeranian Sif felt the need to cuddle and coddle? This angry look was not doing him any favors.

Sif and Thor strode past Loki, either to go make sweaty love or to hunt down Loki. Either way, he was to be trapped in Sif’s rooms again. Lowering his head, he glared after Sif as she pulled the door closed behind her--

Except it didn’t latch.

Loki stared at the door in disbelief. She must be desperate for some Thunder god loving to not notice her door wasn’t sealed. He’d been commanded to stay, but surely that didn’t apply if she was no longer in the room?

Creeping forward, Loki nudged his nose between the door and its frame. Sniffing, he could find no evidence that Thor and Sif were still nearby. The cheese smell was gone, but he no longer cared. For the first time in weeks, Loki was facing freedom.

Wiggling his nose forward, Loki slowly opened the door until it was wide enough for his body to squeeze through.

Sweet, sweet freedom.

Taking off, Loki made a run for it. He meant to go to his rooms, in hopes someone would find him there and make the connection, he really did, but three steps into his great escape, he caught a sniff of something small and quivering begging to be killed. Another sniff told him it was a rabbit. Visions of tender rabbit meat brought on the dog drool, and he increased his speed as he altered course.

Three hallways over, in the general direction the cheese smell had originated, Loki narrowed down the search to two apartments. Odin’s advisors lived here, guaranteeing the rooms would be emptied as the occupants were all out being Odin’s toadies. Pausing to sniff the air, Loki concentrated on the scent, tracing it to the far door. He could hear tiny scurrying feet just behind it. Now all he needed was a way in; if only he had opposable thumbs!

Whining and scratching at the door, Loki hoped someone might hear him and come to check on the situation, but he had no such luck.

Determined not to give up, Loki silently promised the rabbit he’d be back and went off in search of a palace servant. It didn’t take long to locate one. Interrupting the man’s dusting duties, Loki whined and tugged at the hem of the man's trousers. The fellow proved he had some modicum of intelligence as concern overtook his features and he followed Loki, dutifully trotting down the hallway. Coming to a stop at the rabbit’s door, Loki scratched at it, whining.

“Is there something in there, boy?” the man asked, and Loki whined again, scratching harder. “Let me get the chatelaine; she has keys to every room.”

The man returned shortly with the chatelaine, keys jangling. Loki’s tail started wagging. He was so close to getting his prey.

The second the door was opened, Loki barged in, his nose leading him straight to the rabbit. It was medium-sized, a blue collar about its neck, pelt white as snow. In a heartbeat Loki pounced and made quick work of the rabbit. His first kill; Sif would be so pleased.

The Aesir with him, however, were shouting in horror. Clearly they were not hunters, as the thrill of the hunt was not filling them. Loki looked down his nose at the two; where did they think their meat came from? It did not grow on trees.

Their lack of understanding resulted in Loki being locked in the chatelaine’s office after a sound scolding. Sif was the only one allowed to scold him, so he ignored the rebuke and sat imperiously. These two simpletons were not worthy of his notice.

Once left alone, with nothing else to do, Loki curled up and slept the day away. No one came to let him out, so when he needed to void his bladder, he carefully emptied the wastebasket and used it as a receptacle, making the room smell exquisite. The chatelaine wouldn’t appreciate that either, he was sure, but she’d already proved to be an inferior specimen, so he didn’t let it worry him.

Night had crept upon Asgard before the chatelaine returned to her office. Hands on plump hips, she regarded him distrustfully. Loki returned the expression. “Where do you belong?” she asked. “I can’t keep you here, but I won’t let you gambol about the palace, either.”

Take me to Sif, Loki barked, but the woman just frowned. With a sigh, Loki moved forward and took the edge of her skirt in his mouth, leading her out. “You’d better be taking us back to your home,” the woman said threateningly, “because I’m not putting up with another display like the one from the morning. It’s bad enough the prince is missing; I don’t have time to run about soothing tears over dead pets.”

Prince.

Oh yes, that was Loki.

Realization slammed into him, and Loki winced. He’d just spent the entire day acting like a dog and hadn’t even noticed. This spell was increasingly becoming a problem. He needed to change back soon before he couldn’t remember who he was.

Back at Sif’s rooms, the chatelaine tsked. “Do you really belong to the Lady Sif, or is this another ruse?” she asked. Loki didn’t dignify her with an answer. With a sigh, she knocked.

The door flew open, a disheveled Sif answering it. “Oh thank goodness, you found my dog,” she said, snapping for Loki to come to her side. He did so dutifully, if resentfully. “Where was he?”

“Locked in my office all day, my lady,” the chatelaine said, and relayed the tale of Loki and the rabbit. Now that he was back in his right mind, Loki felt properly horrified at the retelling. This was yet another secret he planned to take to his grave.

Sif cringed her way through the tale. “It’s my fault,” she informed the chatelaine at its conclusion. “I left my door open and he escaped. I’ll make amends with the family.”

“Too right you will,” the chatelaine said, then bustled off, leaving Loki in Sif’s capable hands.

“What am I to do with you?” she asked, shaking her head. “At least you’ve proven you can hunt, though that was not the way to do it. But no matter; I have an assignment for you. Come.”

Loki followed Sif into her rooms, where she handed him a tunic he recognized as his own. He took a cautious sniff, and was almost overwhelmed by the scent. By the Norns, is that what he smelled like? How was he not beating off every eligible maiden in the Realm with a stick? He’d never come across anything so enchanting and addictive! It was a miracle he wasn’t mobbed on a daily basis.

“That is the scent of our missing prince,” Sif said. “Find--”

An idea struck Loki. Not waiting for her to finish her sentence, he bounded to the door, waiting for her to come open it. “But eat any more pets, and I’ll neuter you for certain,” she threatened. He glared at her; he’d like to see her try.

Once the door opened, Loki trotted quickly to his quarters, Sif on his heels. She didn’t say anything, though her face was focused. At his rooms, Loki pulled up short. The door had been blasted open, meaning someone set off his wards. “It was the only way to gain entrance,” Sif explained. “Not that you need to know that, as you’re a dog.”

Giving himself a shake, Loki led Sif through the entrance and tried not to think about how much work he’d have to put in to restore the door to rights. That was a job for after he regained his Aesir form.

Heading straight to his bedchamber, Loki walked up the mirror and stopped, staring intently at himself. Sif came up behind him, and he saw her reflection say, “Yes, you are a handsome fellow, but now is not the time for ogling ourselves in the mirror.” With a growl, Loki jutted his nose at his reflection. Come on, Sif, he thought. You can figure this out. “Again, not helpful,” she said, turning away. “If you can’t find anything useful, we shouldn’t be in here without permission.”

Leaving the mirror, Loki cut off Sif’s retreat and pushed her back. Returning to his spot in front of the mirror, Loki pressed his nose against the glass and breathed, fogging up a little circle around his face. He barked once.

Sif’s face changed once she understood. “Loki…?” she whispered, walking up the mirror and gently touching its surface. “He trapped himself in the mirror? Of course that little narcissist did.”

Loki dropped his face, but Sif was already gone, with a hollered command to stay as she found help.

Lying down, Loki took a nap.

*

Sif left Canine Loki locked in her rooms while she spent the next day and a half guarding Loki’s rooms. She didn’t need to do something so menial as guard duty--it was beneath her, Thor was quick to remind her--but she wanted to be on hand when the mages figured out how to pull Loki from the mirror. She had a thing or two she wanted to say to him when he returned, after she hugged him in relief.

Frigga was the one to speak to her as the other mages broke for a lunch of cold soup. “Are you certain he’s in the mirror?” the Allmother asked. Worry pinched her eyes, and she looked like she’d had little sleep.

“I can’t be certain of anything,” Sif said, “but my canine led us here and refused to let me leave the mirror, and for a creature who’s never met Loki or been exposed to his scent, I found it compelling.”

Frigga shook her head, fatigue in the action. “We can find nothing,” she said. “The only spell we detected was one to compliment the viewer--” of course her vain friend would do such a thing “--and that’s an old enchantment.”

“I could bring Loki back and see if he repeats his actions,” she said. Frigga gave her a querying look, so Sif clarified, “I named my dog after him.”

“Ah,” Frigga said with a knowing look, and Sif blushed.

“It’s meant to be an insult,” she said unconvincingly.

“I’m sure it is,” Frigga said, patting her on the arm. “Retrieve your dog, my child, and we’ll see what we can do.”

Canine Loki was asleep atop Prince Loki’s tunic when she returned. He almost looked peaceful at rest, so long as she didn’t look at his angry eye markings. It was remarkable, really, how much this dog resembled her missing friend. Gently toeing him awake, Sif was rewarded with a nasty glare. She laughed. “Be as angry as you want, pup,” she said, “but get up. We’re on a mission.”

With a slow stretch and long yawn that looked deliberately calculated to take too long, Canine Loki took his sweet time standing. “Move faster, or I’ll do to you what you did to that rabbit,” she said, amused. Canine Loki growled. “Aye, you know it was wrong,” she said, gently bopping him on the nose. “Now come.”

Back at Loki’s room, Canine Loki hid behind Sif when faced with the Allmother. Gently chiding him, Sif shoved him in front of her and commanded a bow. Canine Loki didn’t comply until she kneed him in the ribs. He glared at her, but went down. It was a silly thing to train her dogs to do, but Sif prided herself of having dogs that could show obeisance to the monarchs of Asgard. Odin always seemed to enjoy it, and Frigga’s pleased smile indicated she did, too. Canine Loki, however, bared his teeth at Sif, and she wondered again just how intelligent her dog really was.

The Allmother produced another article of Loki’s clothing, holding it out for the husky to sniff. Canine Loki did so reluctantly, then marched back to the mirror. Instead of just sitting there, this time he reached out his paw and tapped on the glass while whining. “He does seem certain our Loki is in there,” Frigga murmured, moving her assistants out of the way with a snap of her fingers. Reaching forward, she touched the mirror with one finger. “If I could--”

She cut off, recoiling as if burned. Inspecting her finger, Frigga looked between it, the mirror, and Canine Loki. “Interesting,” she said.

“What is?” Sif asked.

Frigga didn’t respond as she reached again for the mirror. She held her finger steady against the frame until Loki patted his reflection again, at which point she retracted her finger. She must have figured something out as a smile curled her lips. With a clap of her hands, Frigga said, “Everyone out! Except you, dear.” She placed a hand on Sif’s arm, holding her in place as everyone else vacated the room. Once all the other occupants were gone, Frigga knelt down and gently patted Loki. “You’re a handsome boy, aren’t you?” she said approvingly as Loki’s tail started going wild. “You’ve got a face to scare children, but that is to be expected.”

Sif didn’t understand what was happening. “Allmother? What is going on?”

“Tell me,” Frigga said. “How long have you had this dog?”

Uncertain where Frigga was going, Sif said, “Just a few weeks. I claimed him in the forest.”

Peeling back Canine Loki’s lips, Frigga inspected the dog’s mouth. He tried to pull back, but the queen’s grip was firm. “Interesting. Magic mushrooms?”

“Excuse me?” Sif asked as Loki jerked his head back and forth.

“An old witch?” Loki whined again. “A jilted lover?” At this, he growled. “Ah. Insulted students, perhaps?” Despite the hold Frigga had on him, Canine Loki managed to lower his head. Satisfied, Frigga released him and stood, facing Sif. “Your dog is a unique animal,” she said. “May I convince you to part with him?”

It wasn’t even a consideration, and Sif told Frigga so. “Are you certain, my dear?” the queen asked. “I can find a better use for him.”

Trying not to let the queen see how insulted she felt, Sif firmly replied, “The dog is mine, Majesty. I’ve already trained him to my command.”

Laughter sparkled in Frigga’s eyes. “Oh, I’m certain you have,” she said mysteriously. Loki growled, and Frigga patted his head. “Thanks to your dog, I know where my son is,” Frigga said, “and you won’t appreciate the answer. Would you rather I share it or keep it to myself?”

Frigga did not often offer warnings, so Sif hesitated before answering. She could not begin to fathom where Loki was hiding that she would not like the answer, but she trusted Frigga to not lie (where Loki had acquired that trait, no one was certain). Yet on the other hand, as much as she liked to complain about the younger prince, he was still her friend, and she wanted to know his location; if he was safe, to chastise him for worrying everyone, and if he was in danger, to quest to save him.

“Tell me,” she told Frigga, who looked at her approvingly.

“Watch, my child,” she said, holding out her hand to Canine Loki.

A jet of silvery magic left Frigga’s fingertips and encircled Canine Loki. His body started to quiver and contort, and Sif had to physically restrain herself from reaching out for her dog. Frigga, gentle and kind, would not inflict unnecessary harm to an animal, so either something else was going on or the pain was integral to finding Loki. Knowing that did nothing to help Sif’s nerves.

All too soon, her dog transformed into the figure of the very man they’d been hunting for. Sif’s nerves were replaced by horror. Frigga was right; she didn’t want to know where Loki had been these past weeks, for now that she knew he’d been with her…

He’d seen her changing.

He’d seen her naked.

He’d made messes in her rooms.

He’d killed a small child’s pet rabbit.

He’d been trained to obey her command.

_He’d been trained to obey her command_. She wondered if that would hold…

As soon as the transformation was complete and Loki was restored to rights, he patted himself down. “Oh thank the Norns. I was days, perhaps hours away from getting lost inside the dog instincts,” he said, voice gravelly with disuse.

Not one to miss an opportunity, Sif barked, “Sit!” and watched the prince drop to his haunches like a good little boy. She didn’t bother trying to contain her smirk, nor Frigga her laughter. Loki, however, looked distinctly displeased.

“That is not funny, Sif.”

“On the contrary, my prince; you’ve seen me naked, so I think ordering you about like a misbehaving pup is fair.”

His glower didn’t lessen as he said, “You forget I averted my eyes.”

True. It had been an odd behavior for a dog, and in hindsight, Sif could see why. “I will grant you are more of a gentleman than I supposed, but it doesn’t change--

“Doesn’t change that you essentially tried to castrate me?”

She’d forgotten about that, and burst out laughing. Again, his behavior made more sense in hindsight.

“This is a story I simply must hear,” Frigga said. To the background of Loki’s protests, Sif related the entire disastrous trip to the animal healer. By the time she was finished, Frigga was crying tears of mirth and Loki had found wads of paper to pelt Sif with, spelled to strike again and again. She didn’t care, enjoying the scowl on his face far too much. To annoy him further, Sif recounted every dog-like behavior she could recall until Loki stormed off to his bedchamber and Frigga collapsed on a nearby chair to contain her mirth.

Wiping her eyes, Frigga said, “You might want to chase after him, Sif, dear.”

“Oh, I do,” Sif said, “but he needs a moment to pout. Now, have I told you about when he ate my leggings…”

*

Loki was thoroughly embarrassed.

If he’d had his way, he would have quietly transformed back into himself and snuck into his rooms, pretending he’d been there the whole time. Sif would be heartbroken about her missing dog, but she’d get over it, with all none the wiser about his canine exploits. Now Sif and his mother knew, and Loki wasn’t sure he’d survive the humiliation.

It was bad enough being a dog, and so much worse hearing about it. Their traitorous laughter called to him from his front room; he scowled. Worse, much like how he’d been more man than dog at first, he was still feeling dog instincts and very strongly wanted to go sit by Sif’s side and have her pat his head.

He would never live that down.

He’d been alone stewing in his own juices for nearly an hour before Sif came to the door. Her stupid grin was plastered all over her face. Half of Loki wanted to smack it off, and the other half wanted to do something to keep it there forever. Those lingering dog instincts would do him no favors, he thought bitterly.

“You make an excellent dog,” she opened with. In response, Loki lit her tunic on fire; she doused it without much thought, her mirth only growing. “Be a good boy, and you can sleep on my floor any time you wish.”

His heart leapt at the prospect of being her good boy. Damn organ. “Carry on and I’ll detail for you the exact scent you leave behind in your drawers,” he said.

Rather than vanishing her smile, as he’d hoped, it only increased her amusement. “But then you’ll have to explain how you know.”

Loki shook his head, resigning himself to the inevitable. “There’s no way I can win this one, is there?”

“Win, no, but come to an agreement, yes,” she said. He perked up, and hated how much it made him feel like a dog. “Swear to stop imagining a romance between myself and your brother, and I’ll keep your canine exploits to myself.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “How about I agree to stop commenting on your romance, and you agree to forget about everything?”

Sif shook her head. “Oh no, my prince; I am never forgetting for as long as I live.” Her wicked smile promised as much; Loki sighed.

“Fine. On your terms, then.”

She agreed, and they shook on it. Later, when Loki had time to think things through, he’d come up with several creative punishments to dole out to her. For now, he just wanted her to leave. Going to release her hand, Sif gripped him tighter and pulled him in so her mouth was flush with his ear. Loki tried not to visibly react. In a low voice, she murmured, “You can be my good boy any time,” and slipped out his door as he stared after her, eyes wide and jaw slack.

A tiny ball of heat formed in the pit of his stomach, replacing much of the humiliation he’d been feeling. Perhaps this adventure had been worth it, after all.

Shaking his head, Loki headed to his study. He could dwell on Sif later; right now, he had a class of sorceresses to punish and amends to make.

*

Little Anders sprawled on his bed, drowning in his sorrows. Mamma and Pappa refused to replace Olav, saying if the rabbit had been in his cage like he was supposed to be, the husky wouldn’t have been able to eat it. Little Anders’ irresponsibility is what got his pet killed. But Little Anders knew better. He’d locked Olav in, but the rabbit was sneaky and could unlatch his own cage. Just last week his sister Auda found Olav under her bed after the whole family had been gone all day.

This is what being clever got you: eaten. Little Anders was going to cease learning immediately in order to preserve his own life.

He heard a commotion at the front door. Probably another of Pappa’s fellow advisers, come to discuss the Allfather’s newest edict. It sounded dull and disinteresting to a boy determined to melt into his blankets.

A sudden knock on Little Anders’ door drew his attention to Mamma, smiling so widely he knew it must be somebody important come to visit. “I’m not available,” Little Anders said morosely. “I’m becoming one with the universe.”

“Darling, Prince Loki is here to see you,” Mamma said brightly. Well that was unusual, enough so that Little Anders forgot his vow to learn nothing and sat up, curious. Into his room strode the dark-haired fair prince, a horned helmet clasped in his right hand.

“Little Anders, I offer my deepest sympathies for the loss of your furry friend,” Prince Loki said. Little Anders, not knowing what to say, nodded deeply. It was about time someone appreciated his loss. “I’ve come to offer you a gift to comfort you in your solace,” Prince Loki said, holding out his helm. Little Anders looked at it curiously. “Go on, reach in,” the prince encouraged.

Sticking his little hand in, Little Anders was met with the touch of cool metal. “There’s nothing here,” he said solemnly, removing his hand.

“Try again,” Prince Loki said, a glint in his mischievous eyes.

Reaching in, this time Little Anders touched something soft and warm. “Olav?” he whispered, clutching at the wriggling mound of fur. He pulled out a rabbit, dark in color, its little nose twitching. He tried not to fall in love with it, but couldn’t resist the soft pelt and beady eyes.

“Reach in again,” Prince Loki said. Little Anders complied, and pulled out second rabbit, then a third, fourth, fifth, until he reached eight little rabbits in a myriad of colors and sizes. Little Anders was overwhelmed with rabbit love, trying to hug them all at once. “They’re all yours,” Prince Loki said, his eyes still gleaming, “but do keep an eye on them. They can be little minxes.”

Delighted, Little Anders threw himself at the prince, squishing two rabbits between them. “You’re the best prince there ever was,” he said through a sheen of tears.

“If you would say that to Lady Sif, I would appreciate the good word,” Prince Loki said, and Little Anders promised he would. With one last pat on the head, the prince departed, leaving Little Anders with his newfound trove of friends.

He had training to do. Little Anders intended to make these rabbits into the fiercest warriors Asgard had ever seen, and they would fight in Prince Loki’s name. Just a little bit of proper learning, carefully applied, and they’d be a force the prince could be proud of.

Olav would have liked all these lady rabbits, Little Anders thought as he went to work.

**  
End  
**


End file.
